


A Heartfelt Gift

by mattsloved1



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Caring, M/M, Romance, Slash, flufy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattsloved1/pseuds/mattsloved1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Sherlock's birthday and John still hasn't found a gift. </p><p>Something fluffy for starrysummernights' birthday! :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heartfelt Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrysummernights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrysummernights/gifts).



> This fic is for starrysummernights. Today is her birthday! She gave me three words a few weeks ago. :-)
> 
> I do not own these characters and this piece has not been betaed (Poor MLC finally gave in to sleep). I still haven't slept properly myself so please forgive any mistakes that I might catch tomorrow. lol

It was Sherlock’s birthday and John still didn’t have a gift. No one could accuse the man of not trying.  He had spent days’ worth of hours talking to friends and family hoping for an idea, wandered through different London shops and perused multiple online sites and still he was empty handed.

 

Cerebral **games** had been an option until John remembered how their only try at Cluedo had ended.  A trip to the British Museum was a quick thought, so Sherlock could point out all the inaccuracies, but John didn’t want to take the chance of being escorted out by security, or worse, the police. Other ideas had been considered before also being discarded.

 

Now morning had arrived and John heard his flatmate shuffle into their living room. Looking up, the doctor’s eyes took in the gangly genius.  Hair tousled and his signature dressing gown wrinkled, he padded over to the sofa his feet bare. Something new suddenly made itself known to John and he smiled.

 

He soon set a cup of Sherlock’s favourite tea on the coffee table before bounding up the stairs to his room.  In the matter of fifteen minutes he had the day arranged nicely. 

 

As John settled himself back into his chair, Sherlock’s phone chimed. A pleased look filled his face as his flatmate swallowed the now tepid beverage and then tore out of the flat less than ten minutes later. 

 

John had sent a plea to Molly allowing Sherlock access to the cadaver that had been delivered two days earlier. It would keep Sherlock happy and out of trouble for some hours. Once he was finished, it would be dinner time and John would be waiting.

****

That evening, Sherlock entered Angelo’s, nodded a hello to the staff and owner, and joined John at, what had long been, _their_ table. The two men smiled at each other and proceeded to enjoy a pleasant meal and good vintage **wine** while Sherlock shared, in great detail, all of the gory experiments he had run on the corpse provided by a wary Molly.

 

Later, with full stomachs, they walked back to 221B, giggling at inappropriate comments Sherlock made about the people they passed. Once back, John chose a movie he knew the detective loved to verbally tear apart. When the credits began, John yawned and bid his friend a good night. 

 

Distracted, Sherlock grunted as he went to check on the cockroaches he had been hiding in the freezer. Suddenly a text came to his phone. He was confused to find it was from John. Scrolling down, he saw the message:

 

_Sherlock, Happy Birthday!  I hope you liked the corpse Molly let you play with as well as dinner at Angelo’s and the movie we watched together. Your final gift is in your bedroom._

 

In a matter of moments, the man who hadn’t remembered the significance of the day, walked into his room to find a surprise sitting on his bed.  There was Doctor John Watson, a nervous grin on his face. Sherlock opened his mouth but stopped when he noticed the two **ribbons** wrapped around his friend’s chest and drawn into a bow over his heart.

 

At lightning speed, Sherlock ran through all of the information he had filed away in his mind palace in the room labelled _John Watson_. By the time he had retrieved all the necessary information, he noticed the grin on his flatmate’s face starting to slip.

 

Not wanting any misunderstandings, Sherlock walked until his legs bumped John’s knees, took his friend’s face in his long hands and didn’t let their lips separate until both men needed air. Not wasting any more time, the world’s only consulting detective then began to slowly unwrap his birthday present.


End file.
